


and time can do so much

by LucilleBarker



Series: unchained melody [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 18:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20214379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucilleBarker/pseuds/LucilleBarker
Summary: Hopper and Joyce share a moment when neither of them can sleep. Set shortly after “a long, lonely time,” but can stand alone.





	and time can do so much

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I was gonna leave Joyce and Hopper alone in a one-shot after “a long, lonely time,” but then this happened. Carrying on the trend of using lyrics from “Unchained Melody” by The Righteous Brothers.

Jim Hopper watched the steam from his coffee danced against the fall chill and dark sky. Night was too quiet for Hopper’s liking—specifically the hours between midnight and 2:21am. The mind wanders when it gets too quiet. It attempts to fill the void with anything that can distract from the nothingness connected to silence.

Sometimes it’s a song, of which he may only know one verse and it repeats.

Sometimes it’s a list of things he needs to do around the house the next day.

And sometimes it’s Hopper’s memories of stab wounds and the sound of his own screams echoing in his ears.

“Hey.”

Hopper startles at Joyce’s voice. She stood over him, legs and feet bare while a fleece robe two sizes too big for her frame wrapped her up in warmth.

“Hey,” he replied. “It’s freezing out here, you’re gonna catch a cold like that.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And you’re not?”

He lifted up his coffee mug. “This tar is hot enough to melt me from the inside.”

“Hop, you shouldn’t be drinking coffee at this time of night,” Joyce sighed.

“I don’t have many vices left, Joyce.”

“Fine, then bring it inside. I’ll sit with you for a bit.”

Hopper waved a hand. “Nah, I’m okay. You go ahead, get some sleep. Besides, you have work in the morning and the living room light is too bright, and I don’t want to wake up the kids—“

“Bring it to the bedroom,” Joyce suggested.

Hopper’s lips pursed to prevent his jaw from dropping.

“Bedroom?” he repeated. 

She shrugged. “Yeah.”

His thoughts whirred like a boat’s motor trying to gain traction on the water. The inability to find words had him blinking rapidly. Joyce rolled her eyes and tugged at his hand.

“C’mon, Hop.” 

Jim Hopper shuffled after Joyce Byers, her small stature nothing against her stubbornness in getting him to follow her to the bedroom. Even though there had been some boundaries set in place by the two of them a mere three weeks back. They had agreed to be together, yes. They had also agreed that they should take it a day at a time—they had to focus on their kids after everything they had been through. On top of that, Hopper was still legally dead, which was it’s own hell show as Owens and Hopper both worked out the details and paperwork necessary for his resurrection. An assistant of Owens had suggested to Hopper that it would be easier to start completely over with a new identity. Hopper suggested to that assistant to gently fuck off.

So while there had been kisses and hand holding, Joyce and Hopper decided to wait until the dust had settled before spending time together. After their dinner—their substitute for Enzo’s—they found themselves making up for lost time and, admittedly, trying to speed ahead of it. Nothing is quite as mortifying as all of your kids and their friends coming home from a movie early, and two middle-aged adults having to scramble off the kitchen floor as they readjusted their clothing. 

Joyce pushed Hopper into her bedroom, and he used the moment at present to take in his surroundings. Joyce kept her surroundings simple—grey quilt, secondhand wood headboard, two bedside tables that held out-of-trend lamps. A framed photo of her and the boys rested on the right hand side table. A vanity mirror on top of her dresser that held more open bill envelopes than it did makeup. There were no bright colors other than a dark green crochet blanket that sat on the foot of her bed. Maybe he had grown too used to staying in Jonathan’s old bedroom, covered in band posters and gray quilts that were so uniquely Jonathan despite the boy living on campus at his new university. But being in a space that was so clearly Joyce’s? Hopper opted not to sit on her bed, placing his coffee mug onto an empty spot on the dresser before crouching down to sit on the floor, pressing his back against the mattress.

Joyce tilted her head and crossed her arms, leaning against the closed door.

“So... nightmare?” she asked.

Hopper shook his head. “I was just remembering some things, that’s all. Once you remember one thing, it just snowballs, ya know?”

“You shouldn’t have had to go through all of those things.”

He sniffed. “Wouldn’t be who I am without those things. Can’t change the past.”

Only the hum of the room filled the lull in the conversation. Joyce’s eyes were cast down, a small crease forming between her eyebrows. I know that face, Hopper thought. This face was one that was deep in thought, but often what was happening in that head of hers would be left unsaid. She would re-direct the conversation to Will or El, ask if Hopper needed anything, or the moment would just float by and move on.

Keeping her gaze downward, Joyce stepped over to his side and slid down next to him. She inhaled, and released the breath on a long exhale.

“Sometimes I feel so guilty,” she whispered, rubbing her upper arms for warmth. “I feel like... I have had a lot of good in my life, Hop. I have two beautiful boys, I have a decent job, a house that isn’t falling apart. Not falling apart yet, anyway. And I found out things about myself that I never knew I was capable of. I realized how strong I was, how smart I was.” 

She paused, tried to swallow downs the sorrow that tried to bubble out of her. Hopper watched her shake her head, as if she was ashamed of what she might say. Should he take her hand? Should he let her be? 

“But then I remember everything that I lost,” she admitted, blinking back tears. “And sometimes I find myself thinking about when we were high school and what my life would have been like if I had actually seen you. I know I wouldn’t have Jonathan or Will... and I know we wouldn’t have found El or stopped those things. I know it makes me a horrible person to even think it because I love them so much. Still, when the nightmares get bad or I remember what happened to Bob and Alexei, I imagine what it would have been like if I had done things differently. If I had gone to the prom with you instead of Lonnie. If I had the patience to wait for you while you were in Vietnam, if we moved to New York together, had kids together. Maybe it would have been easier. Maybe we wouldn’t have to deal with all of this pain. We wouldn’t have to see our kids in pain. Maybe everything would have been destroyed without us... but maybe we’d actually be happy.”

The last few words came out as a whimper, Joyce furiously wiping at her cheeks from the offending tears streaming down her face. Hopper wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she leaned into him. He felt more than heard her muffled apologies—an “I’m sorry” and “this is so embarrassing.” He pressed his lips against her temple, her hair catching onto his lips.

“Joyce, I can’t say that I don’t have regrets,” he said. “But I don’t want you to waste anymore time on ‘what could have been.’ What happened happened. I’m not who I was, but I’m here. And I want you here with me, too.”

Joyce pulled back, sniffling and trying to steady her sobbing with deep even breaths in and out. Hopper smiled and started inhaling and exhaling in an exaggerated manner. A giggle hiccuped out of her, and she smacked his arm.

“Would it help you sleep if you had some company?” she asked.

Hopper’s lips curled into an over-the-top grimace and shook his head. “I don’t know, Joyce. A man and a woman sharing a bed together? Out of wedlock? I can’t put my virtue at stake like that.”

“Oh my god,” Joyce muttered, rolling her eyes.

“It’s a sin.”

“Shut up and get in the damn bed, Hop.” 

Hopper stood up and stripped off his jeans and flannel shirt, leaving him in his boxersas he crawled into bed. Joyce’s robe fell to the floor to reveal an oversized white shirt—was that one of his old undershirts?—and she wiggled her way into his arms. Hopper’s nervous energy was gone, and his body relaxed into the mattress. His eyelids felt heavy and his breaths started to match the rhythm of the woman next to him.

“Hey, Hop?”

“Hm?”

“I am glad that we got here.”

Hopper smirked, opening his eyes just long enough to find Joyce’s mouth and kiss her sweetly before closing them again and falling asleep. 


End file.
